


The Dysfunctional Family of Deathstroke The Terminator

by RichardGraysonPercyJackson



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Adorable Dick Grayson, Big Brother Jason Todd, Canonical Character Death, Cause instead of batman, Court of Owls, Cute, Cute Kids, Damian Wayne Loves Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson Protection Squad, Dick Grayson is Adorable, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Dick loves toothpaste, Don't eat toothpaste, Dysfunctional Family, Everyone Loves Dick Grayson, Freakout, Good Older Sibling Jason Todd, Good Older Sibling Tim Drake, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Good Sibling Tim Drake, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jack and Janet Drake - Freeform, Jason Todd Loves Dick Grayson, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Mental Breakdown, Panic Attacks, Parent Slade Wilson, Past Child Abuse, Protective Damian Wayne, Protective Jason Todd, Protective Slade Wilson, Protective Tim Drake, Resurrected Jason Todd, Slade Wilson Loves Dick Grayson, Slade Wilson's A+ Parenting, Sort Of, Sort of? - Freeform, The batkids - Freeform, Tim Drake loves Dick Grayson, except now they're the Deathkids, human disasters, it's just jason, its deathstroke, not sarcasm, toothpaste
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26867308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RichardGraysonPercyJackson/pseuds/RichardGraysonPercyJackson
Summary: What if Bruce didn't take Dick in after his parents died?What if Jason didn't go back to Bruce after he came back to life?What if it wasn't Batman Tim spent hours chasing after?What if Damian ran away from home after realizing he would never be good enough for his father?What if Slade Wilson took in the batboys instead?Weird update schedule**
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Slade Wilson, Jason Todd & Slade Wilson, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Comments: 179
Kudos: 772





	1. Warm. Soft. Safe.

**Author's Note:**

> More tags to come as I write more

Of all the contracts Slade had taken, the one that was not only the strangest but also had the most permanent effect on his life would be when he’d been hired by none other than The Court of Owls themselves to take out one of their rogue Talons.

“You are unpredictable to him,” The Grandmaster had explained. “If we send another Talon, he will be able to hold his own or take them down as he’s trained alongside them. You, however, he will not be able to win against.”

So Slade had taken the contract more for little else to do than anything else. And he’d had every intention of killing the little Talon too. At least, until he met him. The Talon - The Gray Son, as The Court had more specifically called him - was a _child_ , with big golden eyes staring up at Slade as the mercenary towered over him with katana in hand.

But the child did not draw blade nor hand to fight, merely staring up at Slade with his head tilted to the side and curiosity in his golden yellow eyes.

 _You are unpredictable to him. You, however, he will not be able to win against._

Not because he couldn’t predict Slade’s moves, it seemed, but instead because he would be too curious to even try. The little thing did seem to recognize the danger in the mercenary because he hadn’t come any closer form where he’d violently flinched behind the dumpster when Slade had withdrawn his katana, but he was making no move to fight back.

Slowly sheathing his weapon, Slade carefully crouched down and looked around before slowly removing his helmet, noting the way the child’s head tilted even further to the side. No doubt hadn’t expected something so _normal_ beneath the orange and black. Had probably expected something closer to a Talon.

“It’s alright,” Slade murmured softly, gently, reaching one of his hands out and watching as the little Talon tucked himself a bit further away. “I’m not going to hurt you.” _Not anymore._ “Come here.”

As the first response to Slade that evening, the tiny Talon adamantly shook his head. Of course, Slade had expected that so he very slowly took a cross legged seat on the ground, removing his katanas and guns and laying them out on the ground in front of himself before removing his gloves and placing his hands on his knees.

And then he waited. It wasn’t like he was in any rush, either. The Court hadn’t asked him to report back or deliver a body. Just that he dispose of the body when the Talon was dead. Therefore, Slade had absolutely nowhere else to go.

He could outlast this little Talon.

………………………………………………

It only took a shocking two hours, forty-eight minutes, and ten seconds before the tiny Talon slowly and carefully crept out of the corner, eyeing Slade and the weapons as he slowly crawled over.

He was even tinier than Slade had originally suspected, probably only thirteen years old. At least physically, that is, since Talons age far slower due to their enhancements. Physically the boy was thirteen but realistically, he could have been born in 1902 for all Slade knew.

The Talon eyed the weapons, eyed Slade, before asking in a tiny, hoarse voice, “Who?”

“My name is Slade,” Slade introduced softly.

Talon eyed the weapons again. “Hurt?” he asked, tilting his head back to Slade.

“Hurt?” Slade repeated.

Talon curled away but didn’t scamper back to the corner, at least. “Hurt Talon?” he whispered.

Slade felt a bit of rage towards The Court boil. How dare they take this child and hurt him. How dare they take this child and _torture_ him, train him to think anyone coming towards him was going to hurt him.

When had this child escaped? How many Talons had they sent to kill him before they realized an unpredictable enemy would work better?

“No,” Slade replied. “I want to help you.”

“Help?”

“Protect you,” Slade elaborated even though he doubted that helped Talon understand. “From The Court.”

The Talon whimpered at the mention, frantically looking around. “Don’t,” he whispered. “Always watching.”

“That’s why I want to protect you,” Slade murmured. “I won’t let The Court hurt you.”

Talon blinked at him before creeping within arms reach, hesitating for just a moment before tentatively reaching out to press his fingers to the back of Slade’s hand. The reaction on both their parts was immediate, Talon jerking back and scrambling away with a hiss as Slade drew his hand back to himself at the same speed.

“You’re freezing,” Slade murmured. He’d known a lack of temperature had been part of the Talons’ enhancements but feeling it was another thing all together.

“Hot,” Talon told him with an accusatory tone, cradling his hand to his chest and staring at Slade. They stared at one another for a bit longer before Talon whispered, “Protect?”

“With my life.”

……………………………………………..

“Slade, what is that?” Wintergreen asked as Slade carefully slipped through the window, Talon clinging to his side.

“This is Talon,” Slade replied, carefully settling the boy on the couch and not missing the way the child clung to his wrist at the sight of Wintergreen.

“I see,” Wintergreen replied. “And why is he here?”

“I promised to protect him,” Slade replied. “I intend to keep that promise.”

Wintergreen blinked, regarding the child, before saying, “He needs clothes.”

“I still have some of Joey’s.”

“Alright,” Wintergreen agreed. “Fair enough. Is there anything you need before I head out for the night?”

“I don’t think so,” Slade replied. “Thank you, Wintergreen.”

“Of course. And congratulations on your new role of father.”

Slade sneered. “Get out.”

Wintergreen laughed as he left.

…………………………………………….

Talon stared blankly at Slade where he was seated on the bathroom vanity, still dressed in his black Talon suit - sans gloves - as Slade began filling the bath.

“You’re not afraid of water, are you?” Slade asked after he’d started running the tap, turning back to the Talon who had grabbed Slade’s toothpaste and was mere seconds from squirting it into his mouth. “Don’t eat that.”

“Warm?” Talon asked, eyeing the tub and leaning into Slade as the mercenary reached around the child to put the toothpaste away.

“It will be,” Slade replied, placing his hands on the countertop on either side of the Talon’s legs, leaning down so they were eye to eye. “What’s your name?”

The Talon blinked at him before reaching out and placing his icy hand on Slade’s cheek as he remarked,

“Warm.”

“Yes, I am,” Slade agreed, trying not to shiver. “I’m enhanced too.”

“Too?”

“What’s your name?”

Talon cocked his head to the side. “Talon.”

“Your _real_ -” Slade cut himself. “Nevermind, I’ll figure it out myself.”

 _I’ve had him for thirty minutes and I’m already getting irritated_. 

He grumbled as he turned back to the tub to test the water temperature and level. He took the chance to take a deep breath as he turned off the tap and turned around just in time to watch Talon squirt a decent amount of toothpaste into his mouth.

“Yeah, should have seen that coming,” Slade muttered as he walked over and took the toothpaste, waving it in Talon’s face as he firmly said, “No.”

Talon merely blinked at him as he swallowed his mouthful of toothpaste and started reaching for the tube, falling into Slade’s chest when the mercenary moved the container out of his reach. Sighing, Slade put the toothpaste down before scooping the Talon up right before the child could reach for the toothpaste again.

“You’re determined, aren’t you?” Slade asked as he turned and set Talon on his feet, beginning to strip the child of his suit and many, many, _many_ knives. Once the boy was naked - skin just was white as his face - Slade scooped him up again and placed him in the etub.

“Warm!” Talon chirped, delighted.

“Yeah, it is,” Slade agreed as he carefully took a seat on the edge of the tub, watching the Talon splash around in the water and feeling a small smile creep on his face at the innocence of it. “Good?”

“Warm!”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

It takes a bit of coaxing - Talon is apparently still terrified of him - but Slade does manage to clean the dirty child and even wash his hair. It’s when it’s time to get him into bed that trouble happens.

“Soft,” Talon whispered, pressing gently at the mattress of the bed but not climbing in yet.

“Yeah, it is,” Slade replied. He’s not going to sleep in the same bed as Talon so he’s dragged one of the living room chairs into the bedroom so they can be in the same room but so they’re not sharing a bed. “Are you going to get in?”

“Trick?”

Slade’s anger appeared out of nowhere and the urge to punch something grew. Unfortunately, the only something around was a brainwashed, tortured _child_ , so he merely tamped down his irritation and shook his head.

“No trick,” he promised. “It’s for you.”

“Talons hurt Gray Son.”

“Yeah, I bet they did.” This kid is really trying Slade’s patience.

“ _You_ hurt Gray Son?”

“No. Never.”

And for some reason, that seems to be all the kid needs to hear because he slowly crawls into bed, decked out in a pair of Joey’s pajamas that are just slightly too bed, curling up under the blanket and passing out mere seconds after his head hits the pillow.

Letting out a long, slow breath and knowing his rage won’t let him sleep for awhile, Slade - now dressed in a more comfortable t-shirt and sweats - settles into the chair to try and get comfortable for when his anger simmers down and he’s able to sleep.


	2. Jason Todd: Reincarnated Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Bring me a tube of toothpaste.”
> 
> “Don’t you have any?”
> 
> “Talon has been eating it.”
> 
> “Why?”
> 
> “You think I know?”
> 
> “You found a runaway child behind a dumpster who has since begun eating your toothpaste and you didn’t think, I don’t know, that maybe he was hungry? ”

When Slade opened his eye the next morning, he had a moment to process the empty bed before cursing loudly and jerking up, immediately moving to the bedroom door until he heard a quiet noise in the bathroom.

Walking over, Slade heaved a loud sigh as Talon looked over and made dead eye contact, just as he squirted toothpaste into his mouth.

“What did I just say last night?” Slade snapped, as he stormed over, grabbing the toothpaste and tossing the - now empty - tube into the trash can as he grabbed Talon’s arm, trying to stay gentle as he dragged the child out of the bathroom. “Do not eat that!”

 _This child is irritatingly lucky he can’t die unless decapitated._ Slade thought sourly to himself. _That much toothpaste would kill a normal person._

Because the toothpaste tube had been mostly empty and Slade had a sneaking suspicion Talon had been in the bathroom all morning, just...eating it.

Slade shuddered as he scooped the child up and placed him on the bed, jabbing a finger in his face as he firmly said,

“Stay.”

Once he was sure the child was going to listen - he wasn’t sure at all, really - he walked over to the bedside table and grabbed his phone, selecting Wintergreen’s number and returning to stand in front of the child who was blinking widely at him as the mercenary waited for the call to connect.

 _“Please don’t tell me you’ve thrown Talon out the window already_.” was the first thing out of Wintergreen’s mouth.

Slade scowled. “When have I ever thrown anyone out the window?”

_“Grant Wilson. Your Son. When he was nineteen.”_

“It was life or death.”

“ _Please rethink what you just said in context to yourself, Mr. Enhanced and Mostly Immortal.”_

Slade ignored him. “When are you coming over?”

 _“I didn’t know I was planning to_.”

“Bring me a tube of toothpaste.”

_“Don’t you have any?”_

Slade blinked, the only thing keeping his rage in check being Talon who had decided to play with the mercenary’s fingers, occasionally trying to put them in his mouth before Slade pulled his hand away and the cycle started over.

“Talon has been eating it.”

“Why?”

“You think I know?”

Wintergreen was silent for a moment. “ _You found a runaway child Talon behind a dumpster who has since begun eating your toothpaste and you didn’t think, I don’t know, that maybe he was hungry?_ ”

Slade blinked. That hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Bring something for him to eat then,” he replied, grimacing and yanking his fingers out of Talon’s mouth. “Before he eats _me_.”

Wintergreen snorted. “ _Listen, Wilson, I know it’s been a few years since you’ve been a real father but I can’t believe your first instinct on finding a homeless child wasn’t to feed him_.”

“I’m a little _rusty_ ,” Slade growled.

“ _Clearly_ ,” Wintergreen siad, laughter in his voice. “ _Sure, I’ll be over in an hour. Need anything else?_ ”

“Clothes that will fit him.”

“ _I’ll measure while I’m there_.”

Slade ended the call before Wintergreen could keep laughing at him.

…………………………….

“I think he prefers the toothpaste,” Wintergreen teased, he and Slade leaned against the countertop in the kitchen as they watched Talon tentatively chew on a tiny piece of cracker from the saltines pack Wintergreen had brought.

“Just eat it,” Slade told the little assassin when Talon blinked up at him. Wintergreen beamed at Slade’s gentle tone from where he was standing on the mercenary’s blind side, well aware that was the reason he was on Slade’s blind side in the first place. “It's edible, unlike the toothpaste."

“Does he even know what toothpaste is?”

“I _will_ deck you.”

“In front of an impressionable child?”

“This child has spent an unknown amount of years with The Court of Owls, I do not think he is impressionable,” Slade fired back.

“Fair,” Wintergreen agreed. “Is Jason coming over today?”

“I never know. He shows up when he wants.”

“Well, seeing as you’ve got an assassin for a son now, I think it would probably be best if you knew so he didn’t just come clambering in the window and get a knife to the gut.”

“All of Talon’s weapons are hidden in the safe in my office.”

“All the weapons you know of.”

Slade leveled Wintergreen an unimpressed look. “Unless this child has a tiny knife shoved up his asshole, he doesn’t have any weapons on him.”

Wintergreen chuckled, shaking his head fondly as he looked back to Talon and remarked, 

“I think he likes crackers.”

Slade looked back to watch the child eagerly eating another cracker, the box tipped over on the table and crumbs and crackers everywhere.

“He’s not like any Talon I’ve ever met,” Slade remarked. “He doesn’t act like an assassin, he acts like a child.”

“Maybe he got turned more recently than you thought,” Wintergreen suggested. “It would be why he looks so young. Maybe they just hadn’t gotten into any of the intense training.”

“Maybe,” Slade mused. “Or maybe they fucked up his head when they turned him and that’s why they’re so desperate to kill him. No Talon makes it away from the court for as long as he has. He’s killed every Talon they’ve sent after him, that’s why they sent me. So he’s had training.”

“You’re suggesting they fucked him up-”

“I’m suggesting maybe they trained him _before_ they turned him,” Slade corrected. “But it went wrong and they lost their perfect Talon.”

“Somehow, training him before they turn him is…”

“Worse?”

“So much worse.”

Slade hummed in agreement. “I’ll do my best to make sure Jason doesn’t go after them.”

“You think he will?”

“This is a child and the situation he came from was definitely an abusive one,” Slade remarked. “You know how Jason feels about those. Remember the Drakes?”

“The Drakes were different,” Wintergreen corrected. “That was child neglect at best, not abuse.”

“It’s the same thing to Jason, I think.”

“Fair. Where are they anyway? Jason and Tim?”

“After everything that happened in the last two years, Tim wanted to be out of Gotham,” Slade explained. “He’s attending a boarding school in California.”

“Good for him,” Wintergreen praised. “What about Jason?”

“Do I ever know where he is?”

Wintergreen just laughed, looking over as the Talon appeared in front of Slade. The child was near perfectly _silent_ and even Slade jumped the slightest bit when he looked down at the child. When the eyes were on him, Talon reached up to Slade and said,

“Up?”

“Oh my god,” Wintergreen murmured at the sound of his tiny voice, looking away as Slade sighed and scooped the child up and onto his hip. “Careful, Slade, you’re spoiling him.”

“Shut your mouth,” Slade snapped as Talon curled into him, wrapping his arms around Slade’s neck and resting his head on the mercenary’s shoulder.

“Warm,” he remarked.

“Oh my god.” Wintergreen choked down a laugh. “Jason is going to love this.”

“I think you can leave now.”

“What about his clothes?”

Slade sighed.

…………………………………………….

It was a few hours after Wintergreen left, Slade in the kitchen cleaning up after lunch and Talon seated contentedly on the couch in the living room, staring at the blank TV, when Slade heard the familiar slide of a window, followed by the loud declaration of,

“What the fuck is _that_?”

“Language,” Slade snapped, taking the pan out of the sink and placing it to the side to dry as he turned to find Red Hood sliding through the window of the living room, helmet tucked under one arm as he stared at Talon. Or at the couch where Talon _was_ but is now crammed underneath of it, peeking up at Red Hood and no doubt terrified out of his mind.

“He hates weapons,” Slade said. “Get rid of them and come back or leave.”

“What is it?” Red Hood - Jason - demanded once more as he placed his helmet on the coffee table and stripped off his leather jacket, tossing it onto the nearby chair and working at his gun holsters, never taking his eyes over the bright yellow ones watching from under the couch.

“ _He_ calls himself Talon,” Slade replied.

“Talon?” Jason asked, looking up at the mercenary. “As in the fucking Court-”

“ _Language_.”

“You swear worse than I do,” Jason muttered as he shoved past Slade into the kitchen and began rooting around the mercenary’s fridge. “So what’s _he_ doing here?”

“He’s staying.”

Jason froze where he’d just picked up the gallon of milk, straightening up and looking over at Slade as he asked,

“Staying? As in, like a pet?”

“He’s not a pet, Todd.”

“So he’s a kid.”

“Of course.”

“You’re adopting a kid.”

Slade blinked, crossing his arms over his chest. “I was originally hired to kill him. But he’s a child who doesn’t know any better.”

“A child who’s probably killed more people than you and I combined,” Jason remarked, pulling out the gallon of milk again, this time making eye contact with Slade as he uncapped it and began drinking right from the jug.

“I _will_ hit you,” Slade told him.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Jason muttered breathlessly as he finished drinking and returned the jug of milk to the fridge. “Why don’t you go get your kid out from under the couch instead?” Jason looked over towards the couch before asking, “Who is he, anyway? Or was, anyway. Before The Court.”

“I’m not sure yet,” Slade replied. “I don’t even think he knows anymore. Any time I’ve asked his name, he just replies with ‘Talon’ or ‘Gray Son’.”

“Gray Son could be a lead,” Jason suggested, leaning against the fridge and crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe his name is Grayson.”

“Who actually names their kid _Grayson_?”

“It could be a last name.”

Slade grunted but knew Jason had a point. “How about while I work to figure that out, _you_ get him out from under the couch.”

“What!?” Jason demanded, shoving himself off the fridge as Slade turned and slipped through the living room to the study. “Why _me_!?”

“You’re the one who scared him under there.”

“Fair,” Jason muttered as he headed into the living room after Slade, carefully shoving the coffee table to the side, getting down on his knees only to freeze and call after the mercenary, “He doesn’t have _knives_ , does he?”

Slade called back, “Unless he snuck them out of my safe, no.”

“That’s not reassuring,” Jason muttered as he carefully lay down on his stomach, folding his arms atop one another and resting his head on them as he smiled at the tiny boy impossibly crammed under the couch and staring at Jason in terror.

“Hi there Talon,” Jason said, trying to go for friendly as he smiled. “My name is Jason. Do you want to come out now?”

“Hurt Talon?” Talon whispered.

“Course not,” Jason replied.

“Hurt _him_?” Talon asked, eyes flicking for half a second in the direction Slade had gone before returning back to Jason.

“He’d break my spine before I got the chance,” Jason said with a chuckle. “Besides, I’d never hurt him even if I wanted to.”

“Why?”

“He’s sort of…” Jason hummed. “I went through some shit, he helped me get my head on straight. He’s like my dad. A better dad than either of the ones I had before, anyway. They were all kinds of shitty.”

“Dad?”

“Yeah.” Jason paused. “Do you know what that means?” Yellow eyes merely blinked at him. “I guess not. Do you want to come out now?”

“Warm?”

“I mean...I could turn the heat on if you want.”

“He’s asking if _you’re_ warm, not if the rest of the room is warm,” Slade corrected as he walked into the room.

“Oh,” Jason muttered. “Sure, yeah. I run hot on account of our lovely friend, The Lazarus Pit.”

“If you’d stop personifying things, I’d appreciate it,” Slade remarked where he’d taken a seat in the armchair across from the couch as the Talon began to wiggle out. “Or I’ll break your jaw.”

“You already broke my jaw before, remember?” Jason reminded him.

“You were suffering from Pit Madness and didn’t listen to me,” Slade recollected. “Breaking your jaw-”

“For eight _weeks_.”

“Was the best way to get you to listen. You listen better when you can’t talk.”

Jason rolled his eyes but didn’t get a chance to reply before he suddenly had an armful of little Talon, the child curling as tightly into Jason’s chest as possible, wrapping his arms around the antihero’s neck as he remarked,

“Warm!”

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

“You’re going to want to get comfortable,” Slade told him, looking up from his tablet. “He’s not moving for a long time.”

Jason rolled his eyes again but did carefully move to sit on the couch. Even though he’d never say it aloud, Slade could tell just from the way Jason’s eyes softened at the sight of the little assassin that he had already decided that this boy was family.

Now their next obstacle was going to be Tim. The fifteen year old already felt like he didn’t belong in their little makeshift family, Slade doubted bringing another kid in would help at all.

…………………………………………

THREE WEEKS LATER

“Richard John Grayson.”

Jason - on his knees in Slade’s bathroom, giving the Talon a bath - looked up towards the mercenary in the doorway.

“What?” he asked, turning back to Talon to begin working shampoo into the boy’s dark locks, the golden eyes half lidded as the child hummed happily.

“His name,” Slade replied. “Richard. He grew up in Haly’s Circus. Looks like he disappeared after the funeral for his parents.”

“I remember that,” Jason murmured. “The Flying Graysons fell to their death. Their wires snapped.”

Slade hummed in agreement. “Looks like your good pal _Brucie_ paid for his funeral.”

Jason scowled. “Wish I was surprised,” he muttered, glaring at the bathwater though his expression quickly softened as he murmured, “Explains the three extra headstones in the backyard alongside Mr. and Mrs. Wayne.”

“Three?”

“John, Mary, and Dick Grayson,” Jason recited. “B never told me about them but he always said ‘Dick’ was a kid he’d failed to save.”

“The Court took him after the funeral, likely,” Slade guessed. “Looks like they called him the Gray Son. Some sort of family tradition, family role to become _The_ Talon of The Court.”

Jason was silent for the time it took him to rinse the shampoo out of Talon’s hair and bundle the boy out and into a towel before he remarked in a low tone,

“I’m going to kill them. All of them, every last one.”

“Not alone you’re not,” Slade corrected. “And certainly not right now.”

“And why not?”

“Because that child is not going to let you leave.”

Jason looked down at the wet, naked child in the towel who was leaning heavily into his side, arms wrapped around the Red Hood’s waist and eyes closed in peace. He sighed.

“Fair.” he paused. “Wait, so he’s Richard Grayson?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s older than me,” Jason remarked, looking up at Slade who regarded him coolly. “Like, two years older. He should be twenty-one, not…” he gestured at the child. “ _Baby_.”

“Physically he’s thirteen,” Slade explained. “That’s likely when they turned him. Wintergreen and I suspect something went wrong, that’s why he doesn’t physically age or act like any of the other Talons.”

Jason blinked. “That sucks.”

“Are you staying the night?” Slade asked.

Jason gestured back to the child who looked about to fall asleep on his feet. “Do you think he’s going to let me leave?”

“I think this is the longest you’ve stayed since the Joker tried to kill you that second time,” Slade remarked.

Jason scowled as he scooped the sleepy Talon up. “You said you weren’t going to mention that,” he snapped.

“I said I wasn’t going to mention that to _Tim_ ,” Slade corrected.

“Speaking of the little nerd,” Jason said as he and Slade headed out into the master bedroom to dress Talon for bed. “Where is he?”

“School.”

Jason grunted. “When’s he coming back?”

“Winterbreak is in a few weeks.”

“Have you told him about Talon? Richard?” he shook his head. “ _Dick_ , whatever the hell we’re calling him now?”

“Not yet.”

“You probably should. Definitely not a good idea to let him come home and think he’s been replaced.”

“Believe me,” Slade drawled. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So since ages are sorta gonna be a bit confusing here, lemme explain.
> 
> Dick: Twenty-one but physically thirteen
> 
> Jason: Nineteen
> 
> Tim: Fifteen
> 
> Damian: Thirteen


	3. Tim Drake: Coffee Addict Extraordinaire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Apparently Wayne was planning to take Richard in after his parents died.”
> 
> “You’re kidding. That man can’t even make toast without setting something on fire, let alone raise a child.”
> 
> “He raised you."
> 
> “He killed me."

OCTOBER

Tim had just dropped onto his bed in his dorm when his phone began ringing shrilly from where he’d carelessly dropped it on top of his backpack by the door. Groaning, he hauled himself out of bed and stumbled over, not caring about the caller ID as he walked back over to collapse on the bed and answer,

“Hello?”

“ _ Hey little nerd, how’s rich boy school? _ ”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Hi Jason,” he muttered. “What do you want?”

“ _ Well, there’s been some changes with the family dynamic that I figured you should know before you come back _ .”

_ That _ had Tim sitting up, a frown on his face. “What sort of changes?” he asked tentatively.

“ _ Nothing bad, don’t worry _ ,” Jason soothed. “ _ Just...we have a new little brother _ .”

Tim blinked. “I’m sorry, what?” he asked, now wide awake and alert.

“ _ Apparently Slade found a little kid. A runaway Talon from The Court _ .”

“The Court as in The Court of Owls?”

“ _ One and the same _ .”

“I thought they were a myth.”

“ _ Nope. They are dead real and this child is one hundred percent a Talon. _ ” there was some shuffling on Jason’s end, a distant child’s voice saying, ‘ _ Up?’ _ before Jason grunted for a moment before returning to the call. “ _ Okay, so maybe not  _ one hundred percent _ but, like, fifty percent. He looks like a Talon and definitely has enhancements but he’s more like a little toddler _ .”

“Oh my god,” Tim murmured.

“ _ Hey, and remember The Flying Graysons that you got super into a few years back? _ ”

“Yeah?”

“ _ Apparently our little Talon is their missing son _ .”

“No  _ way _ !”

“ _ He doesn’t remember anything, but Slade’s done some checks. It’s definitely him _ .”

“Shit.”

“ _ Hey! _ ” Jason lectured. “ _ Don’t you fucking swear young man, there’s an impressionable little boy over here. _ ”

“And impressionable little boy who can hear you, not me,” Tim reminded him.

Jason was quiet for a moment. “ _ Shit _ ,” he mumbled then. 

“Didn’t Mr. Wayne’s butler have a swear jar when you lived at Wayne Manor?” Tim asked, grinning. “Maybe I should tell Slade about it.”

“ _ Maybe you should shut your whore mouth _ .”

“ _ Jason. Todd _ .”

“Sounds like someone’s in trouble,” Tim sang, amused. “I’ll call you later Jay.”

“ _ Yeah, whatever, _ ” Jason snapped before ending the call on Tim’s loud laughter.

………………………………………………..

LATER

Seated at his desk trying to do homework, Tim found his mind constantly drifting back to the Talon boy Jason had told him about and his phone was against his ear and ringing before he even realized he’d placed the call.

“ _ Timmy calling little ol’  _ me _? _ ” Jason answered. “ _ I’m honored. What do you need, old timer? _ ”

“I had some questions about the Talon,” Tim replied.

“ _ We’re calling him Richard for now _ ,” Jason explained. “ _ Well, Slade calls him Richard. I call him Dick. I’m pretty sure he’s confused as fuuu… _ ” Jason hesitated for a moment before muttering. “ _ Fudge right now, so we do try to call him Talon from time to time _ .”

Tim chuckled. “Someone being watched?”

“ _ Just shut up and give me your questions. _ ”

Tim rolled his eyes. “You said he’s the son of The Flying Graysons, so shouldn’t he be older than you?”

“ _ Yeah, but he’s enhanced by The Court, so he looks like he’s thirteen, _ ” Jason clarified. “ _ Acts younger than that though. _ ”

“Does he remember anything?”

“ _ No. Nothing but The Court, at least _ .”

“How long has he been there?”

“ _ Slade found him and brought him home about three weeks ago. I met him the next day. _ ” there was the sound of shifting on Jason’s end before he remarked, “ _ You absolutely cannot tell this child has only been here for three weeks. He’s so... _ relaxed _ and comfortable with Slade and I, it’s like he’s been here for years. _ ” Jason chuckled. “ _ Hates Billy though _ .”

Tim snorted. “ _ As I recall Slade telling me, you hated Billy the first time you met him too. _ ”

“ _ True. And you know there’s something wrong when the kid prefers the violent mercenary over the normal guy. _ ” there was another voice - Slade, probably - before Jason muttered, “ _ You’re a mercenary and you can be violent. Where am I lying? _ ”

Tim chuckled before clearing his throat and asking, “Does the Talon…. _ Dick _ , sorry. Is there anything he likes?”

Jason scoffed. “ _ He likes toothpaste. _ ”

“He likes…” Tim frowned. “What?”

“ _ According to Slade, he ate almost an entire tube of toothpaste his first night here until Wintergreen finally pointed out he was probably hungry. _ ”

“He ate...toothpaste is toxic, Jason!”

“ _ Uh, yeah, I know _ ,” Jason snapped. “ _ Firstly, I know. Don’t yell at me. Second of all, I wasn’t even  _ here _ when it happened and third of all, the kid’s enhanced so it probably didn’t even do anything! _ ”

“Don’t yell at  _ you _ !? Why are you yelling at me!?”

“ _ You started- _ ” There was a brief scuffle on Jason’s end and Tim heard the very distinct voice of Slade saying, “ _ That’s enough. Off the phone _ .” before the call ended.

Tim didn’t call home again that night, knowing that if Slade answered, he’d be lectured for sure. Because yes, Jason was yelling, but Tim  _ had _ started it.

It was harder to concentrate on his homework after that.

…………………………………………

DECEMBER

The next few weeks of classes flew by and Tim managed a solid B or C plus in every class and before he knew it, he was flying back to Gotham where Jason would be waiting to pick him up.

“Slaed’s going to be out on a contract so I’ll be tasked with getting you from the airport,” his ‘brother’ had remarked earlier that day when Tim was packing up, calling home to ask who was getting him. “And since Slade won’t be home, you’ll get to meet Dickie a lot sooner than intended.”

Apparently Dick  _ had _ ended up slipping into the Talon mindset one night, attempting to stab Slade in the middle of the night but had been swayed out of the murder by toothpaste.

_ Toothpaste,  _ of all things! So now they ensured he was never alone and either with Slade or Jason at all times.

He didn’t seem to mind it and from what Jason had told Tim, the kid liked to curl up in Slade or Jason’s lap and would just stay there until they made him move.

“He likes the warmth,” Jason had remarked. “Pretty sure all our spare blankets are under his bed now.”

“Under the bed?”

“That’s where he sleeps.”

So now Tim was on his way back to Gotham, about to meet the newest murdering member of their weird little family.

………………………………………..

It was late when Tim’s plane landed and he got his luggage before heading out to the parking lot where Jason had said he’d parked. It took awhile to find his brother’s shitty car since Jason couldn’t bother to be specific about where he was, but soon enough, Tim had everything but his backpack in the trunk as he slipped into the passenger seat.

“Timmy,” Jason said, turning on the light in the front seat before layering his arm over the back of the passenger seat. “Meet Dickie.”

Tim turned and looked back into the backseat, eyes wide at the sight of the teeny child bundled in several sweaters and blankets, head cocked to the head and yellow eyes - almost fully swallowed in his pupils - blinked widely at Tim.

“Holy cow,” Tim whispered. “He’s so….small.”

“Right?” Jason asked, chuckling as he turned off the light and started the car, immediately turning the heat on and aiming it towards the Talon in the backseat.

“Is there something related to light that’s part of his enhancement?” Tim asked, glancing back at Dick who seemed more content in the darkness and had snuggled back into his blankets, though he was still staring at Tim. “He didn’t look comfortable with the lights on.”

“Yeah, he’s light sensitive. He can see perfectly in the dark though,” Jason remarked. “The Talons of The Court have specially tinted glasses, but Slade said Dick didn’t have them when he found him. Probably lost them in a fight, along with his gloves.”

“Hey, he doesn’t have knives on him, does he?” Tim asked suddenly. “Cause he’s behind my seat and-”

“Firstly, no he doesn’t have knives,” Jason listed as he carefully pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main freeway. “Second of all, he definitely doesn’t need knives to kill you.”

“Jason, that’s not…” Tim scoffed. “That absolutely does not make me feel better!”

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel better.”

Tim scowled. “Obviously.”

Jason chuckled before glancing in the rearview mirror and asking, “Hey Dickie, you good back there?”

“Warm!” Dick chirped.

Jason chuckled before looking over at Tim. “Apparently the cold is a weakness of a Talon,” he explained. “He hasn’t been handling winter well.”

“Yeah, you did say he likes to be warm,” Tim recalled. “Actually, I...well, I didn’t know if this would help him like me or not, but-”

“Timmy,” Jason drawled. “Did you get Dickie a present?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Shut up,” he muttered. “It’s just a blanket.”

“So you got him a gift.”

“Well if you don’t think I should give it to him-”

“No no,” Jason cut in, a soft smile on his face. “He’ll love it.”

They drove on in silence for several minutes and Tim yawned, rubbing his eyes. “Please tell me there’s coffee.”

“There’s Slade’s coffee.”

Tim pouted, frowning. “What about  _ mine _ ?” he mumbled.

“Oh, he threw that away as soon as you left for school.”

“Are you kidding me?” 

Jason chuckled. “You’re a growing boy, Timmy,” he mocked. “Coffee will just ruin you and make you short.”

“I’m already short.”

“And if you keep drinking coffee, you’re never going to have any hope of growing.”

“But-”

“If you’re that desperate, drink Slade’s.”

“I hate his coffee.”

“He knows.”

Tim sighed.

…………………………………………………

“Welcome back,” Slade greeted from the couch without bothering to turn around as Tim and Jason came into the house, Jason carrying the bundle of blankets, Dick curled up inside to prevent the cold from getting any of his skin.

“Hey,” Tim greeted as he dropped his stuff on the floor and collapsed into one of the armchairs across from the couch with a groan.

Slade glanced at him from his tablet before asking, “How was the first semester?”

“Shockingly better than Gotham Academy,” Tim replied honestly. “And...nice. To get away. No one there really knew me so I wasn’t getting stupid pittying glances about my parents.”

“Good,” Slade said, nodding as he turned back to the tablet before speaking to Jason. “How did Richard take the ride?”

“Oh, he loved the ride,” Jason said as he came around and sat in the armchair next to TIm, sitting Dick in his lap as the little Talon peeked out of the blanket bundle as he leaned into Jason’s chest. “He just hated getting in and out of the car.”

“I haven’t found anything else on him,” Slade remarked. “Just that it seems the death of his parents was planned. The circus was planning to hand him off to The Court once they were gone.”

“Poor kid,” Jason murmured, reaching under Dick’s blanket hood to brush his hand through the Talon’s thick hair.

“There’s another bit of information you might be interested to know,” Slade said, looking up at Jason with a smile that meant the antihero was absolutely not going to like what he was told.

He shifted Dick in his lap as he asked, “Which is?”

“Apparently your dear friend  _ Wayne _ was planning to take Richard in after his parents died.”

Jason blinked. “You’re kidding.”

“I found some police records of Wayne discussing it with the Commissioner,” Slade replied.

Jason scoffed. “That man can’t even make toast without setting something on fire, let alone raise a child.”

“He raised  _ you _ ,” Tim pointed out, looking up from his phone.

“He  _ killed  _ me,” Jason corrected.

Slade chuckled before standing and setting his tablet down just as Dick yawned. 

“Looks like it’s a little Talon’s bedtime,” Jason murmured, allowing himself a small smile as Slade walked over, the tiny boy already reaching for the large mercenary while somehow managing to stay bundled in his blankets. “Goodnight Dickie!”

“Night,” Tim said softly as he watched Slade take Dick down the hall before looking over at Tim. “So we just have a new little brother now.”

“Yep.”

Tim blinked. “You’ve known him for almost two months and you’re already attached.”

“Are you surprised?”

Tim hesitated before shaking his head. “No, he is pretty cute.”

Jason chuckled, standing and ruffling Tim’s hair as he headed back to his room while asking over his shoulder,

“If you’re up for it, you’re welcome to come patrol with me.”

Tim grinned as he jumped to his feet and followed after the older boy.


	4. Damian Wayne: Professional Asshole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nice, Dick. Good job.”
> 
> “Jason! We’re supposed to be curbing his habit of stabbing people, not encouraging it!”
> 
> “Can’t we make an exception for this kid?”
> 
> “No!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am currently enraged so here's some cute Dickie reacting the only way he knows how to someone yelling in his face
> 
> Becoming "Le stabby"

EIGHT MONTHS LATER - AUGUST

Damian had run away.

Damian Wayne, heir to The Demon’s Head and the Batman himself, had run away from home. Although it hadn’t really been  _ his _ home, had it? He may have lived within its walls for the past three years, but that didn’t make it his home.

He gave it a week before his father even noticed he was missing. Then again, he hadn’t spoken to the man for over a fortnight so maybe it would take the man longer to realize he was gone.

Make that a month before the man noticed. Well, noticed on his own that is. Though the butler had no doubt noticed and reported it before the end of the evening.

Either way, he was now left trudging through the rain of Gotham with a scowl on his face and a blade strapped to his hip. It was late, hot too, despite the rain, but Damian was careful to avoid standing out in the open lest his father - no doubt on patrol despite the poor weather - spy him and drag him back to that stupid cave.

“Isn’t it a little past your bedtime, kid?”

Damian turned towards the alley, swiftlying pulling out his katana and thrusting it towards the voice, only for his own weapon to be met with the clash of another.

And then Deathstroke The Terminator stepped into the light.

“Little Damian Al-Ghul,” the man drawled, never removing his katana from Damian’s, knowing that even a moment of hesitation would be all the boy needed to attempt to kill him.

Attempt.

“You’re a long way from home,” he remarked.

“I-”

“Does daddy know you ran away?”

Damian snapped his mouth shut, frowning. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

Deathstroke scoffed. “Look up,” he whispered, and Damian did, freezing at the sight of Batma on the rooftop above, attention elsewhere though all it would take would be Damian stumbling into the streetlight behind himself to get the man’s attention.

“You wouldn't,” Dmaian hissed. 

“All I have to do is kick you into the light,” Deathstroke drawled in a low tone. “I can be gone before he even realizes I was here.”

Damian shifted. “I’ll kill you,” he hissed.

Slade tilted his head. “Unless you want a tiny fourteen year old assassin to hunt you down and slaughter you in your sleep, I’d prefer you didn’t. Richard is rather possessive of me at the best of times.”

Damian shifted, narrowing his eyes as Deathstroke suddenly lowered his katana, shooting another glance up at Batman before grabbing the front of Damian’s shirt and yanking him into the shadow of the alley.

“I’ll admit, I’m curious,” the mercenary murmured softly. “Why you ran away from home.”

“I didn’t-”

“I can give you a place to stay, if you like.”

Damian was about to continue yelling though he froze and frowned when he truly processed what the man had just said.

“What?”

“Well…” there was a smile in his next words. “I’ve already stolen  _ one _ of Wayne’s children, what’s the harm in taking another?”

“What are you talking about?”

……………………………………………..

“What is it with you and bringing assassins home?”

“Jason Todd,” Deathstroke introduced as he removed his helmet and closed the window behind Damian. “Meet Damian Wayne.”

“Wayne as in Bruce Wayne?” Jason asked, looking up at Damian.

“Yes,” Damian declared, holding himself firmly. “And you’d best watch-”

“Why the hell would you bring him here!?” Jason demanded. “Bruce is going to kill you!”

“I didn’t  _ steal _ him,” Deathstroke lectured, the two of them completely ignoring Damian as they began a loud argument. Scowling, Damian turned back to the window and immediately jerked back with a silent gasp at the sight of a child slightly shorter than himself suddenly standing there, bundled in a blanket despite the heat and staring with the widest, yellow eyes Damian had ever seen.

“Who the hell are you?” Damian demanded, sneering.

“Don’t yell at him,” another boy lectured as he came out of the kitchen, walking over to scoop the tiny boy up with ease despite appearing as though he wasn’t much older than the boy. “He’s sensitive.”

Damian sneered. “Listen here and listen well, boy,” he snarled, getting into the tiny child’s face.

He heard the shout of the older boy before he felt the pain, stumbled back as Deathstroke and the other rushed towards the other boys before Damian even realized what happened.

“Nice, Dick,” the older boy with the white streak remarked, chuckling as Damian shakily looked down at the knife embedded hilt deep in his abdomen. “Good job.”

“Jason!” the other older boy shouted as Deathstroke grabbed Damian’s arm and dragged him over to the couch, ordering him to stay as he moved off to, hopefully, get a first aid kit. “We’re supposed to be  _ curbing _ his habit of stabbing people, not encouraging it!”

“Can’t we make an exception for this kid?”

“No!”

“Tim and Jason, please go make sure Richard doesn’t have any more knives,” Deathstroke said calmly as he returned and took a seat on the coffee table with the first aid kit. “And Jason, we are not encouraging him to stab  _ anyone _ .”

“Told you,” the one called Tim mocked as he and Jason headed towards the hall.

“Shut  _ up _ ,” the older snapped before they vanished into the furthest room.

“You should learn to control your pets better,” Damian snarled as Deathstroke reached for the knife. The man paused for a moment before remarking,

“I can take this knife and stab you in the heart. Would you prefer that or do you want me to help you before you die?”

Damian sneered. “Whatever.” He only slightly regretted that reply a moment later when the look on Deathstroke’s - now unmasked - face told Damian that the older man was actually considering killing him.

“Considering I’m helping you hide from your father, I would think you would be a bit more polite to your hosts,” he drawled as he swiftly removed the knife, Damian hissing as pressure was instantly put on the wound to stem the bleeding. “And you’re lucky it was just a stab. The last person to get in Richard’s face like that wasn’t quite so lucky.”

“He killed them.”

“Precisely.”

“Your son is not human.”

Deathstroke glanced up at him. “He used to be a Talon for The Court of Owls,” he informed the boy. “He’s not any more.”

“The Court of Owls is a myth.”

Deathstroke chuckled. “They absolutely are not.”

……………………………………..

One good thing about being stabbed, Damian mused, was that it gave him an excuse to stay. If there was anywhere Bruce would look for him, here wasn’t it. The only con was that he was spread out on the couch in the living room, unable to sleep as he’d refused pain meds.

A mistake, he figured now. It was nearing four AM when he heard a door open down the hall and before Damian could even think about grabbing his katana, the tiny yellow eyed child appeared out of the darkness.

“Well?” Damian asked himself calmly as the boy shuffled closer, dressed in thick pajamas and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. “Here to finish the job?”

The boy cocked his head to the side, moving to stand beside the couch and stare before slowly reaching out towards Damain’s stomach, freezing when Damian grabbed his wrist in a grip that otherwise would have had grown men shouting out.

But the child remained dead silent and still as he murmured, “Ouch.”

“Yes,” Damian snarled. “It  _ hurt _ because you  _ stabbed _ me.”

The boy attempted to tug his arm out of Damian’s hold and Damian reluctantly let him go, watching as the boy looked him over before slowly crawling onto the couch over Damian’s legs.

“What are you doing?” Damian snapped, going absolutely still when the child carefully laid down, cramming himself between the back of the couch and Damian’s side. His skin was cold to the touch and Damian shivered, reaching out to shove the boy away only to freeze when he realized-

“You’re asleep already?” he snapped. “Seriously!?”

He sighed, debating trying to squirm out and away before ultimately deciding it was too much work and he was, reluctantly, in too much pain. So resigning himself to an uncomfortable rest of the night, Damian settled down into the couch and closed his eyes.

He was asleep sooner than he’d expected.


	5. Only A Matter of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Read?”
> 
> “Oh, you wouldn’t like this book. It would be really boring and confusing for you.”
> 
> “Read? Please?”
> 
> “Oh, please!? Slade’s teaching you more than just swear words, I see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate summary: Cute little Talon's back while Jason shares some concerns

“You know Slade doesn’t want you smoking in the apartment.”

“I’m not in the apartment, I’m on the fire escape _outside_ ,” Jason corrected without turning around where he was glaring out at the city skyline.

Tim was silent as he finished crawling through the window and closing it behind himself, walking up to stand beside Jason before remarking,

“Dick was sad you didn’t come to say goodnight.” Jason merely hummed and Tim frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“I just think it’s...odd.”

“Odd?”

“Tell me this, Timmy,” he said, flicking his cigarette into the alley below as he turned around to lean against the fire escape railing. “If you ran this big secret group and one of your assassins ran away and you hired someone to kill him, wouldn’t you want proof he was dead?”

Tim blinked. “You’re talking about The Court.”

“Answer the question.”

Tim scoffed, shaking his head. “Uh, yeah. If I thought he might be trouble or might make my other assassins think escaping is okay, I’d want proof. I’d want to be able to show them what happens to those who escape.”

“So isn’t it _weird_?” Jason asked. “That all The Court told Slade was to kill Dick and get rid of the body? They didn’t ask for a picture or his head, or anything. No proof that Slade ever killed him.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Remember back in…” Jason hummed. “December, I told you he tried to kill Slade?”

“Yeah?”

“And just two weeks ago he stabbed Damian?”

“Cause there was too much chaos. Slade was arguing with you and Damian was shouting at Dick. Dick doesn’t like yelling, you know that.”

“Yeah,” Jason muttered. “I just think it’s _weird_.”

Tim sighed. “Jason, I’m tired,” he deadpanned. “Can you just get to the point?”

“What if The Court _knew_ Slade wouldn’t kill Dick? What if they knew he’d bring him home instead?”

Tim frowned. “Are you suggesting The Court can control Dick from a distance?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting, Timmy,” Jason replied. “According to the files we found, Dick is supposed to be The Gray Son of Gotham. Their head Talon. I mean, they’ve had him for…” Jason ticked off on his fingers, muttering under his breath. “He turned...technically twenty-two in March…they’ve had him for thirteen years. Now, why would he wait until _now_ to escape?”

“You think they _let_ him go.”

“Slade never saw blood on Dick, never saw any evidence that he’d ever fought against any Talons The Court claimed they’d sent after him,” Jason explained. “I think they _let_ him go and then hired Slade, knowing he wouldn’t kill the kid.”

“But why?” Tim asked. “I didn’t think Deathstroke was a big problem. Their biggest concern is-”

“Is Batman,” Jason muttered. “Who I have a connection with.”

“Wait, so they…” Tim shook his head. “They sent Slade so he’d take Dick. To get to _you_ , to get-”

“To good ol’ Brucie.”

“Then why…” Tim scoffed. “Mr. Wayne wanted to take DIck in in the first place, why not put the kid in his place to begin with? Why go this weird, roundabout direction?”

“I don’t know,” Jason replied. “But his attack on Slade and Damian has me thinking.”

“What’s that?”

“If The Court _can_ control him...it’s only a matter of time before they use him to kill all of us.”

Tim didn’t have anything to say to that.

……………………………………………….

Dick was growing and growing fast, physically at least. Mentally, he was still a child although every day he spoke more words than just one at a time.

He was definitely nowhere near the kinda quiet, tiny child he’d been when Slade had picked him up which was good because it meant he was getting better and bad because, well…

He had a _lot_ of energy and was constantly wanting to be held, sitting in someone’s lap, or holding someone’s hand.

It was adorable, though, which made up for the exhaustion at the end of the day.

“Jay, up!” the tiny ‘fourteen’ year old chirped as he rushed up to Jason’s side where the Red Hood was seated in one of the living room armchairs, reading. He chuckled as the ex-Talon tugged on his sleeve, waiting for Jason to move his arms before eagerly scrambling into the other’s lap.

“Hey Dickie,” Jason greeted as he Dick snuggled in and got comfortable, wrapping himself in one of the blankets he always carried around with him. “Having a good day?”

Dick beamed up at him before taking Jason’s book, uncaring that he lost the other boy’s page, as he asked,

“Read?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t like this book,” Jason told him. “It would be really boring and confusing for you.”

Dick merely blinked. “Read?” he requested again. “Please?”

“Oh, _please_?” Jason asked, leaning back in shock. “Slade’s teaching you more than just swear words, I see.”

Dick giggled as Slade came out of the hallway to comment, “If he learns any curse words, they’re from you, not me.”

“Excuse you sir, I _heard_ that string of expletives you let out when you tripped into the window last week,” Jason remarked, resting his elbow on the armrest of the chair, letting Dick cheerfully leaf through the book while he talked to Slade. “The TV may have been on but you were loud. There’s no way Dick _didn’t_ hear you.”

Slade ignored him. “I ran into Batman last night.”

“Oh joy,” Jason drawled. “My favorite person on Earth.”

Slade looked over as he remarked, “He asked about you.”

Jason blinked. “Bruce thinks I’m dead,” he said slowly. “Remember?”

“Apparently Red Hood fucked up a few weeks ago,” Slade said, smiling.

“Uh…” Jason gestured to Dick. “Are you _sure_ he’s not picking swear words up from you?”

“Richard. Room,” Slade ordered calmly, watching the tiny boy jump off to Jason’s lap and return his book before scampering down the hall without question.

“Teaching him how to take orders, I see.”

“Orders to keep him safe,” Slade corrected. “Do you want to focus on my parenting methods or do you want to focus on Wayne?”

Jason sighed. “So what’s this about fucking up?”

“You went without your helmet two weeks ago to deal with a drug bust, right?”

“Yeah?”

Slade smiled. “He found hair. Yours, specifically. Ran it through his system and lo and behold, it matched with one Jason Peter Todd.”

“And he immediately sought you out?”

“He knows I have ties to the League of Assassins,” Slade corrected. “Apparently he dug up your grave and found it empty. He assumed someone stole the corpse and reanimated it and when he ran into me last night, he asked I explain.”

“And you did.”

“I informed you were alive and were Red Hood,” Slade corrected. “I didn’t tell him where you were.”

“How kind of you.”

“I didn’t do it for you. If he shows up here and finds Richard, we both know what he’ll do, regardless of the fact that that boy is a child.”

“Batman doesn’t kill,” Jason heard himself say.

“Talons are already dead. It’s not murder in that case.”

Jason scoffed. “That sounds like Bruce,” he muttered before getting serious. “So what do we do?”

“You could confront him,” Slade suggested. “But we cannot let him keep looking for you on his own. We cannot risk him finding Richard.”

“Slade, I didn’t know you had a heart,” Jason drawled. “I mean, I could be wrong, but...do you... _care_ about him? About Dickie?”

Slade blinked, expression perfectly even as he calmly replied, “Yes.”

Jason got serious quickly. “I won’t let Bruce hurt him,” he promised quietly. “I’ll die again, first.”

“Good.”

Jason pressed his lips together and let them stay silent for a few moments before speaking as a sudden thought occurred to him. 

“Hey, I was wondering,” he began. “Do you think Dick’s ever going to mature? I mean, he’s physically growing _fast_ which is amazing but do you think he’s ever going to _mentally_ mature?”

“I’m not sure,” Slade replied. “He’s speaking more, certainly. More words at once and learning quickly. You’re asking will he ever mentally get to his real age.”

“Oh no, I don’t think he’s ever mentally going to get to twenty-two years old,” Jason replied. “Yes, he’s learning fast but I don’t think any of us are going to be around to see him get there…” he trailed off at the dark reminder that the little boy down the hall was practically immortal and would be around long after they were all gone…

“I believe he will get there some day,” Slade said once he realized Jason wasn’t going to say anything else. “I even believe he’ll remember things from _before_ he was a Talon. But that will take time. For right now, we should focus on how he’s growing at the moment.”

“That was incredibly sentimental, Wilson,” Jason said, drawing himself out of his thoughts. “Even for you.”

Slade hummed. “Watch yourself, boy,” he remarked. “You’re not too old that I can’t take you over my knee for a _real_ punishment.”

Jason merely grinned.


	6. Mr. Wilson Will Be Your First Trainer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why don’t you come get a drink with me?”
> 
> “I’m underage.”
> 
> “I kill for a living, you think I give a shit?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No tiny Talon here, just some history on how Jason and Slade met and started living together

FOUR YEARS EARLIER

Jason: 15 yrs old

“If you’re insistent on getting revenge, you need to be stronger than Batman,” Talia remarked as she and Jason stood in the training room of the League’s base. “Therefore, Mr. Wilson will be your first trainer.”

“Mr Wilson,” Jason drawled as Talia stepped to the side. “Sounds old.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t break your spine without even trying, kid.”

Jason turned, eyes going wide as Deathstroke The Terminator approached, decked out in full armor and mask with one of his katanas already in hand.

“Seriously?” he asked Talia. “I thought I’d be dealing with someone more...on Bruce’s level.”

“Jason, dear, if you want to have any hope of defeating someone who doesn’t kill, you first have to defeat someone who _does_ ,” Talia explained as she headed out of the room.

“And how do I know Wilson over here isn’t just going to shoot me in the head to end this stupid lesson?” Jason asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

The daughter of the demon’s head smiled when she reached the door, replying in a gentle voice,

“You don’t.”

And then it was just Jason and Deathstroke.

…………………………………….

“You need to be in control of your rage, otherwise it can and _will_ be used against you,” Deathstroke drawled after kicking Jason down to the mat, the other growling beneath his feet as green took full control of his vision. “When you get angry you get sloppy. Get up. Calm down. Try again.”

“Bastard,” Jason snarled as he shoved himself onto his knees, going still when he felt the cold steel of a blade at his throat.

“I could kill you right now, do you understand that?” Deathstroke asked. “So keep your mouth _shut_ and do as I say. Understood?”

“Fuck you,” Jason snapped. His blood ran cold when the blade cut ito his skin, drawing blood.

“I can end your life here and now and absolutely no one is going to care. So I ask again. Do you understand?”

Gritting his teeth and reminding himself that it was all for revenge, Jason growled out,

“Yeah, I fucking understand.”

“What do you understand?”

“Fucker,” Jason muttered. “I understand that I’ll do what you say for this damn exercise.”

“Good.” Deathstroke pulled the blade away. “So lets begin again, shall we? On your feet?”

……………………………………..

“You need to control your anger Todd, don’t let it control you,” Deathstroke instructed when Jason hit the mat for the tenth time in as many minutes. “While I understand tht the Pit Madness helps you to power through injuries, it also leaves you open to defeat. When you’re angry, you’re sloppy-”

“You already said that,” Jason snapped. “Stop.” Deathstroke was grinning under his mask, Jason just knew it. Still, he shoved himself to his feet again and turned.

“I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

………………………………………………..

TWO YEARS LATER

Jason: 17

“You’ll never let me hear this end of this so I don’t know why I’m even telling you,” the newly named Red Hood drawled as he walked over to Deathstroke who had just finished a contract and was working on putting his weapon away. “But of all the trainers Talia gave me, I think you were probably the best.”

Deathstroke hummed. “Don’t worry kid, I’m not one to rub things like that in the face of others,” he assured, standing and swinging his rifle case over his shoulder. “I am curious on what exactly made me the best.”

“Well, you’re less easy to kill,” Red Hood replied. “And you actually gave me some decent advice instead of just teaching me how to avoid strikes.”

“So when’s the face off?”

Red Hood frowned, following the mercenary off the roof. “The what?” he demanded.

“When are you going to kill the Bat?”

Red Hood scoffed. “Fuck if I know,” he replied. “I have some shit to do first. I have to establish my power first, get my name out.”

Deathstroke hummed, glancing over his shoulder as he remarked, “Sounds like you’re stalling.”

“Excuse me?”

“Those just sound like a bunch of excuses to me, kid,” Deathstroke elaborated. “You know the man’s identity after all, don’t you? Why not just pop a cap in his ass and be done with it?”

“Well, because-”

“Because you don’t really want him dead,” Deathstroke guessed, cutting him off. “Sure, you like being the Red Hood. You like dealing with criminals _your_ way, something I suspect is highly influenced by Pit Madness, and you like being _alive_.”

“Well no shit, dumbass.”

“But you don’t want Batman dead,” Deathstroke went on. “You’re angry because you feel like he let you die, but let’s be honest kid, you’re the one that ran away from _him_.”

“Hey, I didn’t ask you to-”

“You’re pissed that he didn’t kill your murderer, sure, but you also knew damn well he was never going to. Hell, I bet someone could kill his pretty little butler and he wouldn’t do more than put them in an eight month coma.”

“You’re an ass.”

“So I’m right then?” When Red Hood didn’t reply, Deathstroke explained. “You deflect with swearing and insulting people when they’re right. Me specifically. So I’m right. You always knew he wasn’t going to avenge you. You always knew your death was _your_ fault. But you’re hurt because you feel like he didn’t mourn me.”

Red Hood was quiet for a moment before muttering. “He forgot about me,” he murmured, voice breaking. “He told everyone I was away overseas for schools. He never gave me a funeral, never...never…” he shook his head. “I lost everything, because he didn’t keep a closer eye on me.”

Deathstroke was silent for a moment before saying, “Why don’t you come get a drink with me?”

“I’m underage.”

“I kill for a living, you think I give a shit?”

Under the hood, Red Hood smiled.


	7. When In Doubt, Stab

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian had a sneaking suspicion Richard had somehow put it in there. He’d recently been doing that, offering weapons to everyone in the apartment when he felt they were about to go somewhere he deemed dangerous.
> 
> Like the grocery store, apparently.
> 
> The biggest concern, however, was the fact that this was one of Richard’s knives. The same knives Slade kept locked away in a high shelf in his office.
> 
> The same high shelf that Richard was now tall enough to reach.
> 
> Shit.

It had been almost a month since Damian Wayne had started spending most of his time with them and even though he won’t admit it to anyone else, Slade can’t quite remember inviting the kid to live with them in the first place.

And yet any time he tries to tell the assassin to leave, Richard appears out of fuck nowhere and clings to the other, staring up at Slade with big, yellow eyes and practically daring the mercenary to kick him out.

So Damian stayed, the only condition being that whenever he returned to Wayne Manor, he gave no word on where he had been and always ensured his clothing was void of trackers before returning to the apartment.

Richard was far too precious to all of them to risk Wayne discovering the boy’s existence. That, at least, was something even Damian agreed on

…………………………

At 5’ 2’’, Dick is almost Damian’s size now. Maybe an inch or two shorter but he’s about the same height as the assassin. Slade estimates he’ll probably end up being about Jason’s height, with the rate he’s going, by the time he finishes growing.

Although it’s rather difficult to picture their tiny Talon standing shoulder to shoulder with Jason at 5’11.

Jason had just come back from picking up Dick’s custom tailored clothes from Wintergreen when he hears quiet voices down the hall.

“Mama.” It’s distinctly Dick’s. Childlike and not yet deepening into manhood. Slade had remarked on that a few days earlier, saying that even though Dick is growing, he thinks whatever Talon serum they gave is preventing him - or going to prevent him - from going fully through puberty.

Good, Jason had commented back. Puberty fucking sucked.

“Yeah, Dick.” That’s Tim’s voice. “Do you recognize her?”

“Papa.”

“Uh huh.”

“Timmy!”

Tim laughed. “Yeah Dickie, that’s me.”

There’s a silence as Jason puts down the bag and approaches the room, stepping in in time to see Dick pointing at the picture in Tim’s hand and asking,

“Gray Son?”

“Yeah, Dick,” Tim said softly, something sad in his eyes. “That’s you.”

“What’s going on?” Jason asked, frowning as Dick clutched a plush elephant to his chest, one he definitely hadn’t had when Jason had left that morning.

“I...found some stuff that I’ve had for awhile,” Tim explained, waving the picture in the air. “And Slade found...well, he found some stuff that belonged to Dick’s parents.”

Ah, that would explain the stuffed animal then.

“Jason, he recognizes them,” Tim said softly, drawing Jason’s attention to him. “This picture is of Dick and his parents and…” his gaze turned sad again. “And me...when I was a kid and my parents took me to Haly’s.”

“Shit, really?” Jaso asked, walking over to look at the picture. And sure enough, there they are. Tim looks to be maybe two but Dick is definitely eight years old there, holding chubby toddler Tim with a bright smile on his face, his parents behind them.

All three of them dressed in their uniforms from-

“That was the night they died,” Jason whispered.

“I don’t remember it,” Tim said.

“I do.”

“What?”

Jason cleared his throat. “I was there,” he explained. “When they fell. My piece of shit father was terrible at most things but good for something, I guess. He took me to see them.”

“Jason, I…”

“You said Dick recognized them?” Jason asked. “His parents?”

“And himself, too.”

Jason was silent for a moment, staring down at the picture before softly asking, “What does this mean?”

“I don’t know.”

………………………….

Damian’s sketching a Dick’s face from memory - the ex-Talon had had a nightmare the night before and slept in Damian’s bed at Slade’s - when there’s a knock on his door. 

“Father,” he greets without turning around. He’s back at the manor, loathe as he wants to be. It had been Wilson’s suggestion though, that he spent weekdays and nights in his father’s home to prevent the man from suspecting anything.

“We need to talk.”

Judging by the man’s tone, he suspects everything. “About?” Damian asked, careful to fold away his drawing where his father can't see it.

He doubts the man would recognize it, but he’s added in the black veins decorating Richard’s face. They’re far less prominent now, than they were when he came to live with Wilson apparently, but they’re still there.

Damian has little doubt his father would take one look at them and know exactly who that boy was.

“Where have you been going lately?”

“A friend’s,” Damian replied easily. “You seem to have little interest in me outside of our brief interactions at dinner and so I believed it would be best if I remained out of the manor when I am not needed for schooling.”

“A friend,” his father replied, skeptically. “Does Alfred know?”

“Why is that important?”

His father sighed. “Look, Damian,” he said firmly. “This isn’t The League. You can’t go off on your own and do whatever you please. There are laws and…” he pressed his lips together. “I need to know where you are, Damian?”

“Why?” Damian snapped, jerking to his feet and turning to glower at his father, ignoring the clatter of his sketch book falling to the floor. “So you determine if I am a danger to your people? So you can find one miniscule mistake as an excuse to send me back to mother? So you can-”

“Stop.”

Daian snapped his mouth shut, sneering. “Even now, you can’t-”

“Damian,where did you get that knife?”

Damian frowned, looking down to where he’d thought his sketchbook had fallen, only to still. Shit. It hadn’t been his sketch falling to the floor, but instead one of Richard’s Talon knives falling out of the front pocket of his hoodie.

“Father-”

But his father was no listening to him anymore, striding over to pick the knife up, slowly turning to face Damian.

“Where did you get this, Damian?” he asked firmly.

Damian swallowed thickly. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Damian, this belongs to a Talon of The Court of Owls. They’re  _ dangerous _ . I need to know where you got it.”

“I don’t know.” That, at least, was the truth. Although Damian had a sneaking suspicion Richard had somehow put it in there. He’d recently been doing that, offering weapons to everyone in the apartment when he felt they were about to go somewhere he deemed dangerous.

Like the grocery store, apparently.

The biggest concern, however, was the fact that this was one of Richard’s knives. The same knives Slade kept locked away in a high shelf in his office.

Shit. The same high shelf that Richard was now tall enough to reach.

“Damian, did you run into a Talon?” Damian’s father asked, drawing Damian out of his thoughts.

“I didn’t,” Damian declared firmly. “I swear. I don’t know-”

“Damian, I  _ cannot _ have you lying to me right now,” his father snapped firmly. “Tell me the truth. How did you get this  _ knife _ ?”

“I don’t know!” Damian shouted.

His father leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose and inhaling. After a few moments, he exhaled slowly.

“I’m going to take this to the cave, see if I can find any DNA on it,” he said. He began to turn towards the door and Damian’s eyes went wide, panicked. If his father found Richard’s DNA on it, he’d hunt the boy down and not even Deathstroke The Terminator could protect the tiny Ex-Talon.

Reaching his hand into his pocket, Damian found  _ another _ knife, fingers wrapping around the hilt as a plan came to mind. It was stupid and would definetly get him in trouble next time he came back to the manor.

But Richard was more important. Richard’s safety would  _ always _ be more important. So he stabbed his father in the back. 

Literally, in this case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter - How Tim became part of Slade Wilson's household


	8. Go Make A Friend. Just, Maybe Not That Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t you have anything better to do?” 
> 
> “No."
> 
> “You sure? Don’t you have any preppy rich kid friends to play with?”
> 
> “No."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No tiny Talon here, just Tim trying to make friends

Tim knew his parents were busy people. He’d always known.

Tim knew he was mostly born for publicity. He’d always known.

When Tim’s parents got tired of dealing with him, they’d hand him one hundred dollars in cash and tell him to go make some friends.

He was pretty sure they hadn’t meant to make friends with Red Hood.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Red Hood asked, hands on his hips as he watched thirteen year old Tim clamber onto the roof they’d been meeting up on.

“No,” Tim replied honestly, shrugging.

“You sure?” Red Hood sounded skeptical, as much as the modified voice of his helmet let him sound anything. “Don’t you have any preppy rich kid friends to play with?”

“No,” Tim replied again.

“Christ, kid,” Red Hood muttered, shaking his head before removing his helmet. It wasn't the first time Tim had seen the antihero without his hood, but it didn’t make it any odder to see the shockingly young face beneath. “Come on.”

Tim scampered eagerly after the older boy, following him off the roof adn through a few alleys until they came into a safehouse Tim was pretty sure the other hadn’t had until he met Tim.

“I have money,” Tim said as he sat down at the kitchen table, reaching into his pocket to pull the bills out, thrusting them in Red Hood’s direction.

“My answer’s the same as always,” Red Hood told him as he walked over to the fridge to grab two bottles of water. “You don’t have to pay me to spend time with you.”

Tim blinked. “Are you sure?”

“Shockingly, I don’t have a lot of friends either,” Red Hood confessed, shrugging, as he returned to the table and sat down. “And the piece of shit I live with is…” he shrugged. “More of a father than anything else.”

“Oh.”

“Look, kid,” Hood said, sighing. “There’s got to be someone more...someone  _ safer _ to hang out with. Why don’t you go bug Batman?”

“You’re more interesting.”

Hood snorted. “You’re not wrong,” he muttered.

Tim blinked. “So…”

“What’s the deal with your parents, hm?” Hood cut in before Tim could decide what he was going to say. “This is Gotham fucking City and you’re, like, ten.”

“I’m thirteen.”

“What kind of parents give their kid one hundred dollars and just send them out into the city in the middle of the fucking night?”

“They’re busy people.”

“Well then they shouldn’t have had any kids,” Hood snapped.

“Why are you so defensive?”

“What?”

“You don’t know me,” Tim replied. “I don’t know you, not really. So why are you so defensive about how my parents raise me?”

“Because I hate rich assholes who take kdis ni, have kids, just for the fucking fame,” Hood snapped.

“You sound like you speak from experience.”

Hood scoffed. “You have no idea,” he muttered. He stared at Tim silently for a few minutes, expression unreadable under the mask before asking, “Would your parents even notice if you didn’t come home?”

Tim shrugged. “They don’t really notice me unless they need me for a gala and even then, it’s fifty-fifty.” He stilled. “Wait, are you going to kill me?”

“I don’t kill kids.” The answer was said with such venom and not a moment’s hesitation that Tim snapped his mouth shut and shrunk back.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

Hood grunted. “Don’t be,” he muttered, tapping his temple. “My fault. I haven’t been right in the head for a good few years.”

The two were silent for a few moments before Tim tentatively asked, “Why did you ask that about my parents?”

“Your parents are fucking awful,” Red Hood replied bluntly. “I was going to offer for you to come live with me.”

Tim frowned. “Didn’t you say you lived with your dad?”

“The man I live with is not my father,” Red Hood corrected. “Actually, he’s the worst father I think I’ve ever met.” he grimaced. “Which is saying something, considering my track record.”

“Uh…” Tim blinked. “Then why did you just ask me to come live with you?”

“Because we’re a hell of a lot less neglectful than your  _ parents _ .”

Tim blinked. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Jason.” Red Hood took his mask off. “Now you know.”

“And your...not dad?”

“Eh...Deathstroke.”

Tim felt himself pale. “You’re joking, right?”

“Nope.”

“He’s a murderer!”

“So am I! And you’ve had no problems paying  _ me _ to be your friend.””

Tim opened his mouth to object that before realizing that...no, he couldn’t really argue that.

“That’s...fair,” he muttered, slumping down in his seat.

“So?” ‘Jason’ asked. “What do you say?”

“I’m not moving in with two murderers, Jason.”

………………………………

Eight months later, Tim meant the infamous Deathstroke The Terminator a month after his parents had been brutally killed and Jason had whisked him away from the scene without a moment of hesitation.


	9. We Have A Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There is a child in your bathroom, sir.”
> 
> "What?”
> 
> “There is a child. In your bathroom. Eating your toothpaste.”
> 
> “He’s eating my-”
> 
> “Requesting his knife.”

“Wilson,” Damian snapped, breathless as he slid through the window of the apartment. “We have a problem. Richard can-”

“Reach his knives in the safe, yeah, we know,” Jason muttered from where he was seated on the couch. “Little late.”

Damian paused, taking in the scratch marks - made both by nail and knife - littering Jason’s arms as well as the dozens of weapons laying across the coffee table.

“What happened?” Damian asked.

“Richard attempted to attack Todd,” Slade replied, stepping into the living room from the kitchen, Tim following with an ice pack over one of his eyes. “Attack all of us.”

“What happened?”

“Saw something that spooked him?” Jason suggested. “We don’t know. He was sitting on the windowsill looking out the window and suddenly just…” he shrugged. “Popped off on us.”

Damian looked around, an increasing sense of worry filling him as he asked, “Where is he?”

“Gone.”

“Gone!?”

“As soon as he calmed down from whatever freak out he was in, he just…” Jason waved a lazy hand. “Fucked off out the window. Slade tried to chase him down but the kid’s enhanced and fucking faster. Faster than Deathstroke. We lost him.”

“Shit,” Damian whispered, eyes going wide. “Father knows... _ thinks _ I ran into a Talon. Richard had slipped two of his blades into my hoody. Father saw them.”

Jason cursed, covering his face with a hand. “And no doubt he’s going to look for him,” he groaned. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Damian turned an accusatory look to Slade. “I thought you put trackers in his clothing.”

“I  _ did _ ,” the mercenary snapped. “He kept finding them and ripping them out.”

“But that doesn’t help us now,” Jason soothed, getting to his feet to physically step between the two in case their argument turned into a fight. “Because he doesn’t  _ have _ any trackers on him. Right now, we need to focus and find him before Batman does.”

“Or The Court,” Tim murmured. “I think that might be a lot worse.”

Slade sighed, rubbing his temples. “Jason and I will go out and comb the city for Richard,” he decided. “Tim and Damian, you stay here in case he doubles back. Do not let  _ anyone _ one in unless it’s us or Richard, do you understand?”

Tim and Damian nodded, Tim replying, “Yes sir.”

As he walked past Damian towards the window, Jason paused and turned to aks, “HOw’d you get away from Bruce anyway?”

Damian shifted, squaring his shoulders as he firmly he replied, “I stabbed him.”

Jason blinked. “You stabbed him?”

“Yes.”

Jason hummed. “Nice,” he praised before continuing on his way.

………………………………….

Bruce stared up at the batcomputer, lost in thought as the machine scanned over the knife from Damian.

From a Talon.

There had been no fingerprints on the hilt other than Damian’s - and Bruce’s from where he’d pulled the weapon out of his side after Damian had fled - which didn’t help Bruce figure out the Talon’s identity.

Which only served to make him wonder all the more if, perhaps, Talons didn’t have any fingerprints at all. It would make sense, considering The Court thrived on anonymity. Still, it almost seemed like a lot of work to burn off fingerprints if the Talon was going to be careless enough to-

“Sir?”

Bruce grunted, placing a hand on his side as he slowly leaned back and turned to find Alfred standing at the base of the steps, looking his usual butler self though Bruce picked up on a bit of uneasy in the older man’s eyes.

“Alfred,” Bruce greeted. “What is it?”

“There is a child in your bathroom, sir.”

Bruce blinked. “Uh...what?”

“There is a child,” Alfred repeated. “In your bathroom. Eating your toothpaste.”

“He’s eating my-”

“Requesting his knife.”

Bruce stilled. “I see.” He stood.

“He seems no harm, sir,” Alfred said as Bruce moved off to grab his utility belt. “He simply wants the blade.”

“He’s a Talon.”

“His eyes are blue.”

Bruce paused again, turning slightly towards Alfred. “What?”

“He does not have the eyes nor the veins of a Talon, sir. He has blue eyes.”

“Is he pale?”

“No more than one who hadn’t seen the sun in months.”

“Talon’s are pale. With yellow eyes and black veins,” Bruce listed off.

“He has none.”

Bruce pressed his lips together. “He’s still a Talon,” he finally decided. “He’s still dangerous.”

“Very well, sir,” Alfred siad, nodding as Bruce walked past. “Just...be careful, sir.”

Bruce grunted in reply.

……………………………………

He’d thought Alfred had been lying about the toothpaste but Bruce realized that no. There was indeed a child - just slightly taller than Damian - standing in his bathroom and eating his toothpaste.

And no, the child did not look like a Talon. In fact, he almost looked like-

“Knife please,” the child chirped, having finished off the last of Bruce’s toothpaste and bouncing over, one hadn out. He blinks up, blue eyes bright, as he repeated, “Please.”

“You’re a Talon.”

The boy’s eyes flashed dangerously. “ _ Now _ ,” he demanded, tone dark and no longer the gentle innocent voice of a child.

Even though he knew this was a bad choice, Bruce stilled prepared to fight as he calmly replied,

“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note to anyone subscribed to me (not the work but getting notifications anytime I post anything):
> 
> I'm trying to update a TON of works right now so you might get a fuck load of emails since I'm about to update a bunch of works at once - or at least today - so I apologize in advance


	10. The Truth of The Court

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He can take down Talons. But can he take down a new enemy? One he has never seen, never fought, never even heard of?”
> 
> “Who were you thinking?”
> 
> “If The Gray Son can kill Deathstroke The Terminator with no hesitation, then we shall welcome him into our ranks of Talons with open arms.”

“I am pleased to announce, Grandmaster, that The Gray Son has passed all of his tests,” William Cobb, the current Talon of The Court, declared as he stood before his masked, faceless leaders. “He is ready for the final serum and ready to be made a full Talon.”

There were hushed murmurs before The Grandmaster raised a hand and asked, “So the boy speaks?”

Cobb hesitated a moment. “Sir-”

“The boy has been a mute since you took him from the circus,” The Grandmaster pointed out. “Are you telling me you have finally gotten him to speak?”

“Well...no, but-”

“If he cannot speak then how is he meant to serve as a Talon? As The Gray Son of Gotham?”

“If he cannot speak, that will make him far more subservient,” Cobb argued. “He cannot ask questions.”

“How old is he, Talon?”

Cobb frowned under his mask but replied loyal nonetheless. “Thirteen.”

“And you want us to make this child immortal  _ now _ ? To permanently lock his body in a state just on the brink of puberty?”

“That has neve been a problem before-”

“Because none of the Talons have ever been quite so young as he.”

“Sir-”

“I understand your proposal, Talon,” Grandmaster went on calmly. “Talons would be far more efficient as children. But children, as you have no doubt discovered, are far harder to train. To condition.”

“We have changed the boy’s appearance-”

“Far sooner than we ever should have,” Grandmaster objected. “That, I believe, is the true cause of the boy’s disobedience.”

“Sir, it doesn’t  _ matter _ . He remembers little of his parents-”

“For now. But the initial serum only lasts for so long before it begins to wear off.”

“That is why I am here. He needs the second injection now before-”

“Before he begins to return to his previous human state,” Grandmaster finished, trying not to sigh. “I am aware of how the serum works, Talon.”

Cobb winced. “If you do not wish to give him the second injection, then what shall we do to him? Put him on ice? I can only train him for so long, but once his enhancements begin to wear off-”

“You claim that The Gray Son has finished and passed all of his tests.” Cobb grit his teeth at yet another interruption. “Does this include the Exit test.”

Cobb tried not to shift under the eyeless stare. “Of course.”

“Of course,” Grandmaster repeated. “So you’re telling me you showed him an exit to the labyrinth, told him it was the exit, and he stayed? He did not try to run, he did not take that moment to sprint off and flee the first chance he got?”

“Of-”

“He did not fight or struggle or fuss? He remained by your side as he waited for his next order?”

Cobb sighed, knowing he couldn’t continue lying. “No, Grandmaster.”

“Then how can you say he has passed all tests when he still fails to pass the most important?”

“Because  _ I _ think he’s ready.”

“We do not.”

“You can’t wait any longer!” Cobb shouted, finally exploding. “The boy is beginning to grow suspicious. He may not speak but I can see in his eyes. He is beginning to question who we are, beginning to question the truth we have given him! If we do not bind him to our will  _ now _ , then he will find those answers on his own! He  _ will _ go to Batman!”

A slightly panicked murmur went through the group until the Grandmaster declared,

“ _ Enough _ !” he waited until silence fell. “You think The Gray Son is ready to be a full Talon?”

“ _ Yes _ .”

Grandmaster hummed. “Then let us give him one  _ final _ test,” he decided. “We will set him lose on Gotham-”

“Sir-”

“And we will send our best Talons after him,” Grandmaster went on. “His job is to kill them all. You will watch and report back. Should he succeed in his task and show no hesitation or fear, then we shall make him a full Talon upon his return.”

Hesitantly, Cobb pointed out, “This seems almost too easy, Grandmaster. The Gray Son can take down other Talons with no hesitation. He has done it in training. What is the point of changing the setting?”

The Grandmaster hummed in thought. “You’re right,” he finally agreed. “I suppose it is too easy.” He paused for a few moments before speaking again. “Here is what we shall do. You will send him out into Gotham in the night. No hood or goggles, no clawed gloves. Allow him all the knives he can fit on his uniform.”

“Sir?”

“He can take down Talons. He knows Talons,” Grandmaster repeated. “But can he take down a new enemy? One he has never seen, never fought, never even heard of?”

Cobb’s eyes widened. “Who were you thinking?”

“If The Gray Son can kill Deathstroke The Terminator with no hesitation, then we shall welcome him into our ranks of Talons with open arms.”

Cobb gave a weak laugh. “Sir-”

“And if he  _ fails _ , Cobb,” Grandmaster said in a low tone. “You will be looking at an endless time on ice.”

Swallowing thickly, Grandmaster nodded.

…………………………………

“Up!”

The Gray Son scrambled to his feet, yellow eyes wide as he blinked up at Cobb who thrust a photo at the boy, the child merely watching it flutter to the ground before slowly reaching down to pick it up.

“ _ That  _ is Deathstroke the Terminator,” Cobb explained as he confiscated The Gray Son’s gloves, hood, and goggles from his Talon uniform before tossing the outfit over to the boy who caught it midair, watching him with curious eyes. “You are going to go out into Gotham and you are going to kill him.” He walked over to the tower above the tiny child as he demanded, “Understand?”

The boy merely blinked at him. Cobb sneered, grabbing the boy’s arm in a grip that would be painful to any not enhanced, shaking the boy aggressively as he shouted, “ _ Do you understand!?” _

“Yes!” The little Talon chirped, shaking under Cobb’s fury filled rage. The elder Talon scoffed, shoving the boy back as he walked to the other side of the room to breathe.

After a few moments, he returned to stand over Talon once more and say firmly,

“Let’s go. Get dressed.”


	11. Talon, Meet Bruce Wayne. Bruce Wayne, Meet Talon. Oh Look, Talon Is Stabbing Bruce Wayne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jason says you’re a liar. He says you kill Talons.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm adding panic attack into the tags as a just in case. Dickie does have a little breakdown/freak out but I'm not sure if it qualifies as a panic attack but better safe than sorry.
> 
> Enjoy! I gotta say, I'm a lovin' this chapter title, XD

_ There was indeed a child - just slightly taller than Damian - standing in his bathroom and eating his toothpaste. _

_ And no, the child did not look like a Talon. In fact, he almost looked like- _

_ “Knife please,” the child chirped, having finished off the last of Bruce’s toothpaste and bouncing over, one hadn out. He blinks up, blue eyes bright, as he repeated, “Please.” _

_ “You’re a Talon.” _

_ The boy’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Now,” he demanded, tone dark and no longer the gentle innocent voice of a child. _

_ Even though he knew this was a bad choice, Bruce stilled prepared to fight as he calmly replied, _

_ “No.” _

The child narrowed his eyes and alright, Bruce really should have seen it coming when suddenly there was  _ another _ blade in his gut, on the other side of the injury his own  _ son _ had gifted him.

“Batman,” the child declared, a knife in either hand because apparently this little boy had come prepared. “The Court of Owls has sentenced you to-” the child cut himself off abruptly, frowning as though…

As though he hadn’t expected those words to come out of his mouth. Seeing his chance, Bruce very carefully got down on one knee.

“It’s alright,” he soothed the child who whipped his head towards Bruce, eyes wide in what looked to the vigilante as terror. “The Court can’t hurt you anymore.”

The child swallowed thickly. “Knife,” he said. “Now.”

“You’re Dick, aren’t you?” Bruce asked softly, gently, ignoring the child’s demands. “Dick Grayso-”

He was damned lucky the child decided to stab his arm instead of his chest or somewhere much more vital because otherwise, that conversation could have been over far sooner than Bruce had actually wanted.

“Stay  _ back _ !” the boy - Dick Grayson, it  _ had _ to be Dick Grayson - snapped, stumbling away from Bruce and clutching his remaining knife in hand.

“Dick, it’s okay,” Bruce placated, knowing he didn’t have long before he needed to get his two new stab wounds looked at and treated. “It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you-”

“No!” The Talon - Dick, it’s  _ Dick _ \- shouted. “You’re lying! Jason says you lie!”

Bruce froze, swore his heart stopped in his chest, and several long moments went by before he sucked in a sharp breath and softly asked,

“What did you say?”

“Jason says you’re a liar,” Dick replied firmly, no doubt unaware of the  _ pain _ that name was causing him. “He says you kill Talons.”

Bruce knew this was where he could step in, soothe the child that he wasn’t going to kill him. That Dick wasn’t a Talon, not  _ really _ , so of course he wasn’t going to kill him.

And yet...and yet all Bruce could ask was, “You know Jason?”

He knew Jason was alive. Had known for several months that his first and only partner was running around Gotham as the new named Red Hood. yet hearing this child talk about Jason, realizing that this child might be the exact thing he needed to connect to his son again…

“Where is he?” Bruce asked, ignoring the fact that Dick hadn’t even answered his first question. “Jason, where is he?”

“Home.”

“Where’s home?”

Dick opened his mouth before suddenly snapping it shut, eyes going wide at the same time as a voice from behind Bruce tutted and remarked,

“Oh dear, Master Bruce.”

“Alfred-” Bruce turned towards the butler. “Now’s not the time.”

“Certainly not,” Alfred replied. “You are going to march yourself to the cave while I take this young boy home.”

“Alfred-”

The look in Alfred’s eyes had Bruce snapped his mouth shut, grunting as he slowly stood while Alfred remarked softly,

“He’s frightened of you, Master Bruce. You are Batman and if he has truly been with  _ them _ , he will not take kindly to you attempting to near him when he only has one weapon and, dare I say, no enhancements.”

Yes, Bruce had noticed that too. The strength with which Dick had thrown the knives was nowhere near the force other Talons used. Not to mention he looked...he looked just like he had when Bruce had watched the Graysons’ fall, only taller and just a bit older.

But that was impossible...wasn’t it?

“Come now, young man,” Alfred said, striding past Bruce and offering his hand to the boy. “I will take you home.”

“You’re gonna tell him where it is.”

“I would never dare,” Alfred assured as Dick tentatively took his hand and allowed the butler to guide him out of the bathroom, the child skirting Bruce and giving the wounded vigilante a wide birth. “If you would like, you can give me the location of a safe place and I will drop you off there.”

Dick’s quiet voice replying, “Okay,” was the last thing Bruce heard before the two slipped out of earshot.

…………………………………..

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t even remember how he’d gotten into that fancy bathroom, either. Didn’t even know where he was, just knew that the man facing him had his knives and he needed to retrieve them before finding somewhere empty and safe to hide.

He’d attacked Tim, Jason, and Slade and then run and the worst part was, he couldn’t even remember why he’d attacked them in the first place. Hell, didn’t even know how he knew their names when he didn’t even know anything else. 

He swallowed thickly, peeking out of the car window and up towards the rooftops.

He wanted his parents. He wanted his mom and his dad and anyone from  _ before _ but all of them were dead and Dick’s blood was burning in his veins and the people with the white masks - The Court, they were called - had done  _ something _ to him adn all he wanted was to go home but where the fuck was  _ home _ anymore?

His head hurt.

It had been odd, that moment before he’d attacked them. He dimly remembered sitting at the window, gazing up at the sky when between one blink and the next.

It was like he’d woken up from a deep sleep. Like he’d just been tucked in by his parents but now suddenly he was in this home with strangers and knives under his clothes.

He’d attacked out of fear and some innate, ingrained instinct. He’d fought and then fled because the strength, the speed, the calculations he’d had at the beginning of his attack had just suddenly  _ left _ .

He’d felt  _ weak _ , like he’d break like a twig if they got their hands on him. He’d blinked and the room wasn’t so blindingly  _ bright _ anymore.

He’d still had speed, just enough to get him into that fancy bathroom and then that had failed him too. His memory gest hazy again after that but suddenly there’s a man in front of him with a knife in his stomach and a mint taste in Dick’s mouth and-

“Sir?”

Dick blinked, tearing his gaze back to the man driving. “Yes?”

“We’re here,” the man said gently. “The safe location you gave me.”

Did he? Dick can’t really remember. Everything is such a blur but the only thing he remembers clearly - so painfully,  _ agonizingly _ , clearly - is his parents falling. The sight of the blood, the crunch of their bones, the ear splitting screams of the audience around him.

Nothing else is quite so clear as that.

“Thank you,” Dick mumbled.

He slipped out of the car and took off down the alleyway as soon as possible, never looking back and simply praying this man did not follow.


	12. A Talon, By Any Other Name, Is Just As Deadly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
> 
> “I’m fine. Trust me, I’ve been dealt a lot worse.”
> 
> Dick dimly remembered that, remembered waking to screams echoing through the apartment from Jason’s bedroom and recalled how Slade would lock himself in the room with the other and even Talon wasn’t allowed in.
> 
> Even Talon wasn’t allowed in.
> 
> Dick shivered.

“I know no one wants to say it, but I also know we’re all thinking it,” Tim said, he and the others spread around the living room, Slade hunched over a tablet though no one was sure what he was doing since he hadn’t moved or said a word for the last two or three hours. “How long do we wait before we assume Dick’s either been taken by The Court or killed?”

“Until we find proof,” Jason snapped. “We can’t _abandon_ him just because we think maybe he’s back with The Court-”

“Jason, that’s not what I was trying to imply,” Tim attempted to soothe. “I just meant...I meant we’re going to have to-”

“We are not going to _ever_ give up looking for him,” Jason snarled. “Do you understand me?”

“Enough,” Slade growled without moving or looking away from his tablet. “You’re giving me a headache.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Damian drawled where he was seated on the couch. “Todd has a point, _however_ , so does Drake. We cannot search for him forever. But that does not mean we can’t keep looking for him.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It _means_ that while we cannot continue actively scanning Gotham for him, we can still keep an eye out for him while on patrol,” Damian replied. “Plus, he is a Talon-”

“Who is _losing_ his enhancements.”

“So he can handle himself if we cannot find him for a few days.”

“He’s not a _dog_ , Damian!” Jason seethed. “He’s a _kid_ who doesn’t know what’s going on and who’s no doubt being hunted by a huge ass group that wants to turn him into their undead assassin!”

“Perhaps,” Damian agreed. “But as you explained earlier and the way we saw when he and I first met, he can hold his own if he believes he is facing an enemy.”

“What is your _point_?”

“He will survive if we do not find him tonight.”

Jason growled, jerking to his feet and snapping, “Well then _you_ can sit here on your ass and not do shit. _I_ am going to go look for him.”

The living room fell into silence as Jason stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door shut behind him, Tim flinching at the noise. He and Damian sat for a moment, unsure of what to do next, until Tim stood and said,

“I’m going after Jason.”

“Let him go,” Slade said gruffly, finally leaning back in the armchair and looking up from his tablet, setting the device to the side. “We don’t need two of you running around out there.”

“I’m not helpless.”

“I didn’t say you were,” Slade remarked calmly. “I said we don’t need two of you running around out there.”

“Slade-”

“I saw the clarity and fear in Richard’s eyes today, when he attacked us earlier,” Slade explained calmly. “He will return when he feels ready.”

“What clarity?” Tim asked. “What are you talking about?”

“Whatever enhancements he had,” Slade explained calmly. “Are gone now. I saw the moment his eyes switched fully to blue. He is no longer a Talon.”

“Then we _have_ to go after him!”

“He ran earlier because he fully woke from the Talon mindset,” Slade explained calmly. “I saw it happen, that’s why I called his name. That’s why I gave him space. I saw what was happening and was trying to prevent an outburst.”

“It sounds as though you didn’t do a particularly good job,” Damian remarked.

Slade ignored him. “He took off because the attack was Talon’s instinct. I doubt he naturally would have done it himself. But we startled him and he didn’t know where he was. Therefore, he reacted in the most instinctual way.”

“So he’s out there as this child in a teenager’s body with the mind of an eight year old who probably can’t remember anything except the pain The Court put him through and you want to just _leave_ him out there?”

“I don’t want to,” Slade explained. “But we are not going to find him.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No, I don’t,” Slade agreed. “But since we acquired Richard, how many times have _all_ of us been out on the streets? On patrol or otherwise?”

“Like...at the same time?”

“Yes.”

Tim frowned, thinking it over before shaking his head. “I don’t think we’ve _all_ gone out together since Dick came. But what does that have to-”

“If we all suddenly show up on the roofs or streets tonight _without_ Richard, that’s a red flag to The Court that we don’t have him. That he’s either loose in the city or alone at home. And whether I like it or not, there are only four of us. There are hundreds of them. So between our two groups, which one do you think could find Richard first?”

Tim slumped down in his seat. “So you think Dick’s safer if we don’t go looking for him?”

“I believe The Court has long since figured out I never killed Richard,” was Slade’s not so straightforward reply. “So I believe they’ve been keeping a close eye on us. On all of us. If we go out together, we’re essentially handing him over to them.”

“So what now?” Tim asked miserably. “We just...sit here and wait?”

“Yes,” Slade replied.

Tim sighed. “I really hope Jason finds him.”

…………………………………………..

Dick closed his eyes tightly, breathing heavily and clutching his head as the pain spiked again. He’d given this location to the older man who’d dropped him off and had somehow managed to get into the place but now he was curled up in the corner and barely able to breathe through the wash of sudden memories.

His parents had died. He remembers that with _agonizing_ clarity. He remembered a man taking him away from their bodies, introducing himself as Bruce Wayne and promising he was going to take care of Dcik.

He remembered being taken away by some woman who seemed to care very little for his well being and somewhere in there, he remembered a man claiming to be his great-grandfather. He remembered being given to the man even when Dick insisted he didn’t have any great-grandfather.

He remembered being held down by the man, by others in frightening uniform adorned with blades, as they injected something hot and fast into his veins.

He didn’t remember a lot after that. He remembered cold - seering _agonizing_ cold - and begging, _pleading_ with someone to let him out. That it hurt and he was sorry and-

Dick’s headache flared and he curled up tighter, gasping through clenched teeth as he waited for the pain to ease.

He remembered blades and training and lights too bright and painful. He remembered blood, feeling broken bones, watching his shattered legs mend right before his eyes.

He remembered being ordered to kill Deathstroke The Terminator and he remembered failing to do so. He remembered the fear he felt when meeting Jason and the relief he felt when he realized the other was warm.

He remembered meeting Tim and Damian and he remembered attacking them all.

“Dick? Oh thank _fuck_.”

DIck gasped, lifting his head swiftly and blinking rapidly at Jason, crouching a few feet away with wide eyes. He swallowed thickly, opening and closing his mouth a few times before weakly asking,

“Where am I?”

Something flashed through Jason’s teal eyes before he replied, “It’s one of Slade’s safehouses.”

“What am I doing here?”

“I was hoping you could tell me that,” Jason murmured.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Something sad appeared in Jason’s eyes. “I’m fine,” he assured. “Trust me, I’ve been dealt a _lot_ worse.”

Dick dimly remembered that, remembered waking to screams echoing through the apartment from Jason’s bedroom and recalled how Slade would lock himself in the room with the other and even Talon wasn’t allowed in.

Even _Talon_ wasn’t allowed in.

Dick shivered. “What’s happening to me?”

“Well…” Jason said slowly. “We think you’re becoming human again.” he looked Dick over before amending his statement. “Became human again.”

“I’m not a monster?”

Jason blinked. “You mean...a Talon?”

Dick shrugged. “I think so?” he groaned softly, curling in on himself as he mumbled, “My head hurts.”

“I think whatever serum they gave you to enhance you must have repressed your memories,” Jason said thoughtfully, creeping very carefully closer when Dick wasn’t looking. “Now that it’s gone. Or...mostly gone, anyway, you must be remembering-”

“Everything.”

Jason’s shoulders slumped. “Dick, can I come closer?” he asked softly.

Dick swallowed thickly, shaking his head. “I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“I don’t think you will,” Jason told him. “You seem very aware right now.”

“How long has it been?”

“What?”

“Since my parents died,” Dick asked softly. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

“I…” Jason hesitated before nodding gently. “Yeah, he has.”

“How long.”

“Fourteen years...roughly.”

Dick whimpered. “I don’t remember it.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Jason asked. “With-”

“The Court?”

“Yeah.”

Dick shifted. “I...I remember them hurting me,” he mumbled. “Injecting something into me.”

“That was probably when they first got you.”

“I remember a little bit after that but the next clear thing is being told to kill Deathstroke The Terminator.”

“What?” Jason looked confused. “You were told to kill Deathstroke The Terminator?”

Dick nodded. “Why?”

“Cuse…” Jason shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out later.”

“I’m missing most of my memory, aren’t I?”

“It sounds like it,” Jason replied. “It’s because of the serum, I think. It enhances you but it wounds like it wipes your memories too.”

“I wanna go home,” Dick whimpered. “I want my parents.”

Jason sighed. “I know, kiddo,” he soothed. “Come here.”

Dick shook his head as Jason scooted closer. He couldn’t explain why but the moment Jason had started moving closer, something in his blood had _shifted_.

“Don’t,” he whispered, barely recognizing his own voice. It seemed to get through to Jason, at least, because the older boy - no, younger. He was..younger than Dick, wasn’t he? Technically?

“What is it?” Jason asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Dick replied. “Don’t come any closer, something’s wrong.”

“Do you think you’re going to attack me?” Jason asked. “If I come closer.”

“I don’t _know_.”

“Alright, Dick,” Jason soothed, slowly, lifting his hands in a placating manner. “Just relax. I’m going to come closer-”

“ _Don’t_!”

“But I don’t think you can hurt me,” Jason explained. “I’m wearing my armor.”

“Jason, _please_ ,” Dick begged.

“Trust me, Dick,” Jason said, smiling gently. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

And then Dick stabbed him with a blade neither of them even realized he had.


	13. From 13 To 23 In Ten Seconds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You went from being an eight year old acrobat to an enhanced assassin and now your body is trying to catch up to your actual age as fast as possible. You’re bound to feel some pain and discomfort.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it's taken me this long to update. I took a break to finish and focus on my fall college semester and then just...totally forgot and when I did remember/try to work on it, I just sort of blanked.
> 
> Y'all, the plot is gone, I have no idea where it went or where this story is going but we're still writing

“Dick, hey, it’s alright look? Look, I’m fine, see?”

Dick choked down another sob, curling tighter in on himself as he peeked up at Jason and...

“See?” Jason whispered again, gesturing to himself with a gentle expression on his face. “I’m fine. I told you, I had armor. You didn’t hurt me, I promise. Hell, didn’t even get a scratch.”

“I-I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn't, it’s okay,” Jason soothed, holding up his hands. “Everything’s okay.”

“What’s happening to me?”

“I don’t know but we’re going to figure it out,” Jason swore. “You have my word.”

Dick swallowed thickly. “What happens now?”

“Now we’re going to go back and Slade’s going to help us plan what to do next,” Jason replied. “Okay? Right now, you’re not safe out here. The Court could be looking for you and none of us want them to get you again.”

“You can't stop them, Jason,” Dick whispered. “No one can stop them. Not when they want something as badly as they want me.”

“Well, you clearly don’t know how stubborn Slade can be,” Jason replied with a small smile before holding out his hand. “We won’t let them hurt you, Dick. Not again. I swear on my life.”

Dick hesitated before slowly, tentatively, placing his own hand in Jason’s. “Okay.”

…………………………..

When Jason and Dick returned to the apartment, Slade was quick to lock the windows and doors, closing the blinds before sitting them all in the living room and explaining everything they knew to Dick.

“Is that why I feel so weird?” Dick asked softly after they explained his accelerated aging as the Court’s serum wore off and his body attempted to get to the height, weight, and general proportions it should have been at twenty-three, had he aged the way he was supposed to.

“Mentally, you’re between thirteen to sixteen,” Slade explained. “But physically, you’re about nineteen.”

“That’s…” Dick shook his head. “Weird.”

“You’re going through an accelerated puberty, of course it’s weird,” Jason remarked. He paused. “Did you ever even get the sex talk?”

“Not now, Jason,” Slade cut in, before looking to Dick. “We’re not going to let The Court get you.”

“It’s so...confusing,” Dick murmured, shaking his head. “I remember The Court, but barely. I remember all of you, but...barely.” He shrugged. “My entire body feels sore and off and I just don’t feel...like me.”

“You went from being an eight year old acrobat to an enhanced assassin and now your body is trying to catch up to your actual age as fast as possible,” Tim told him. “You’re bound to feel some pain and discomfort.”

“Richard, is there anything about The Court that you can confidently recall that might help us?” Slade asked. “We know next to nothing about them, any information you have might be helpful.”

Dick pressed his lips together, thinking. “I know that...there were two serums,” he tentatively replied. “One for enhancements and one for...immortality.”

“You don’t have that one,” Jason pointed out.

“I don’t know why,” Dick said. “Just that my trainer...wanted me immortal and any time he...went to ask, he always came back upset.”

“So he wanted you immortal, but the head of The Court said no,” Tim guessed, making a note on his computer. “The question is, why?”

“He’s too soft.” Everyone looked over at Slade who directed his attention to Dick and explained. “When I first met you, you were more interested in looking at me and getting to know me then killing me.”

“But a normal Talon would have killed you on the spot,” Jason guessed.

“They told me to kill you.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No.”

“Why?”

Dick sucked in a soft breath. “I don’t know.”

……………………………….

“We caught sight of The Gray Son earlier.”

“And?”

“We lost him.”

The Grandmaster did not sigh, did not make a sound, instead regarding William Cobb before him for quite some time before asking,

“Do you have a plan?”

“We know he’s being protected by Deathstroke.”

“That is not what I asked.” Cobb shrunk back. “I asked if you had a plan to reclaim him.”

“I…” Cobb cleared his throat. “No sir.”

The Grandmaster was quiet for a few moments. “The serum will have fully worn off by now,” he remarked. “In a few days, his body will have fully shifted to age appropriately to his accurate twenty-three years.”

“Yes sir.”

“He will no longer be a child...at least, not in body.”

“Sir?”

“Keep a close eye on him, Cobb. When the time to strike is right, you will be given your order. The Court  _ will _ have it’s Gray Son, at any cost.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is there anything you want to see in the next chapter? Cause I don't...really know
> 
> Also let me know your thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear your thoughts


End file.
